


My time of dying

by beyond_the_nights_world



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Bunker, Hallucinations, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death Experiences, dean is trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_the_nights_world/pseuds/beyond_the_nights_world
Summary: Dean is trapped in the Bunker. And the only thing, he regrets, is not confessing his love.





	My time of dying

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this today, while waiting for the bus. Inspired by Season 12 events

It was hard to breath.

He had tried everything, tried to find a way out of the bunker. But this place, the first place, he ever called home, would be the place of his death.

The steel doors of the bunker were hermetically sealed, the air conditioning was sucking the breathable air out of every room and the whole building was magically warded. No one could get in, and no one could get out.

The first hours, hope was the impetus of going on. Sam and Cas would come back in time to save his ass. It was not his time of dying. Not now, not here.

Dean was dying in steps. The first thing that disappeared, was his strength, the second part was his anger. Anger about being tricked by Ketch, anger about Cas and Sam.

But mostly, it was anger about himself. About every unspoken word, every undone deed.

 

With every shallow breath a piece of combusted hope changed into a piece of fear. Dean had been often dead, but this time, it felt like final. And he wasn't ready... There was too much to do, too much to say.

 

Dean stood in the war room, his hand pressed against the wall to steady himself. The loss of air was macerating his brain. He was tired and only wanted to sleep, but he forbid himself to sit down. A Winchester wasn't giving up.

He closed his eyes and started to pray. Not to God... God was gone

But maybe there was a chance that Cas would hear him.

 

“Hey, Cas... I'm not sure... if... if you can hear me or feel me with your angelic senses. I'm gonna die... I'm dying. God, damn... I wish I had tell you earlier... I”

He inhaled deeply, but the air didn't reach his lungs properly. He felt the impact of being deoxygenated.

 

He swayed, on the edge of falling.

 

“ _Hello, Dean?”_

 

Dean looked up. Cas was standing in front of him.

 

“What? That...I'm hallucinating.”

 

The angel looked at him, his gaze full of concern. Dean tried to grab his friend, but he grasped at nothing.

 

His heart was pounding in his chest and he hard his own blood rushing through his ears. Even if the angel wasn't real, it was all he had left.

“I am not ready, Cas. I... can't die, before I told you that I love you. You... will never know.”

Tears were running down his cheeks, filling his nose with snot and making breathing even harder.

 

“I love you, Cas. I always have.”

 

He saw Cas smiling. Hair all messed up, his blue eyes blinking like sapphires in the moonlight.

 

Dean didn't expected this. He awaited some last words. Some of those speeches, you do, when life was coming to an end.

Words, tears, maybe one last nod, one last understanding glance.

Instead, he was trapped. The hard and cold wall was poking in his back, scratching his skin even through the thin fabric of his shirt. The warm and solid body of the angel, he called his friend, was holding him in place. Lips moving on his, a tongue exploring the warmth of his mouth. Hands around his neck and in his hair.

He always imagined the end as going down in blaze and glory. He hoped it would be like that and not like the grip of an icy hand, pulling him into darkness. Now the end was here. It wasn't the blaze, wasn't the darkness. Everything around him was Castiel. He was drifting into an ocean of blue, the scent of honey, patrichor and freedom surrounded him. Hands holding him, lips soothing the last hint of fear out of his mind.

Peace filled his heart. It was a hallucination, but for him, it was all he could get.

He closed his eyes and let got.

 

 

“Dean.... DEAN?”

The hunter smiled... this must be heaven, he thought behind closed lids. Whatever he had done in life, the good must have been predominant.

“Is he dead?” A second voice? A familiar one. Sam

Dean forced himself to open his eyes. Sapphire blue... hazelnut brown... the bunker ceiling, the cold tiles of the bunker floor.

“Dean...”

The smell of patrichor, honey, and freedom still surrounded him. But it was no hallucination.

“Cas? Sammy?”

He could breath. The feeling of fresh air in his lungs made him feel dizzy and shot tears in his eyes.

Startled, he looked over to Cas, let himself sink into the blue again. “I love you... I always have," he stumbled. He wanted to never ever lose time again.

 

 

 

 


End file.
